


The 00 Project

by keresWings



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Anarchy, Dystopia, Gen, Government Agencies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keresWings/pseuds/keresWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THE 00 PROJECT is a story about the original 8 kids who are anarchists, working against a corrupt government. To combat these anarchists, the government creates the 00 Project, making eight supersoldier androids, ARs 001 through 008, to personally weed out and kill the usurpers and their sympathizers. The AU focuses on AR 007, (casual name: Hal), who is shocked to discover he is actually based off one of the main eight anarchists, Dirk Strider. This is the story of androids and organics, corrupt agencies, and the anarchists who want to return the country to a humane government.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He's chasing the anarchist through the burning streets, feet pounding hard on the cracked pavement. Hal hardly registers the shocks oh his metal chassis as he watches his prey dodge around a corner. Hal unstraps a sword across his back and pulls it out, stabbing it into the wall and using it as leverage to throw himself upwards, catching the edge of the roof and feeling his joints and gears whir under the strain as he tosses himself up, hitting the pavement running. Hal dashes across the rooftops, watching the light haired organic run through the streets. His vision zooms in, and specs dash across his view.

>Fugitive.  
>Male.  
>Approximately 20 years of age.  
>Co-founder of Anti-Skaia anarchist group.  
>Status: Targeted for termination.  
>Command sequence: AR007: Terminate anarchist.

Well, Hal certainly isn't one to question those orders, so he leaps from the rooftop and tackles the fugitive, the two of them rolling on the street. He can hear the organic's harsh breathing and little grunts of pain as his own circuits fire off information about impact velocity and how much damage the chassis is taking. Hal wraps an arm around the anarchist's throat, and just as he's forcing the organic's head up to take a look at his face --

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep._

A low, monotonous tone signals start up, and Hal comes out of sleep mode, the fabricated dream slipping away. It's always the same one, every night, and the scientists like to loop it over and over, despite the .mp4 clip only being twenty minutes long. Honestly, Hal is bored by it. He knows Gri has slipped a hack into the system to give herself personalized dreams that she programs herself before she goes into sleep mode, but she hasn't figured out how to give it to the rest of the androids while staying under the radar. Hal wonders what she makes her dreams about.

He reaches up and unplugs the USB cable attached to the back of his head, closing the small hatch and smoothing his synthetic hair back into place. He quickly runs a diagnostics check from his toes to the crown of his head – skin not torn anywhere, steel fabric muscles still attached firmly to titanium bones. His motherboard has no crossed wires and electricity hums through him comfortingly. He wiggles his fingers, checking the delicate joints, and, finding no problems, he blinks open his eyes. He's met with the unforgiving lights of the laboratory and he sits up, the lenses in his pupils whirring as they focus on the room. Around him on similar beds, the other seven androids are awaking from sleep mode. Ret, a green-eyed male model, known as AR008, grins at him from the bed beside Hal's. The eight beds are arranged in a circle, their feet all pointed towards the centre. Hal jerks his chin up back at Ret.

“Sup?”

AR008: Oh you know how it goes! Just the usual hustle and bustle of every morning.

“Dude, you're on subvocs again.”

Ret's eyes widen. “Oh, bollocks! I do that a lot, don't I?”

Hal grunts and swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing up. “Well, it means you're not wrong; it's just a usual morning.”

Ret sends him a good natured glare before following Hal's example. Just as Hal stands up and stretches, not minding his naked chassis, he's almost knocked over.

“Morning, Hal!” comes the peppy voice, and Hal can't help but crack a small smile.

“Hey, Rol,” he says, looking over his shoulder to see the blonde-haired, pink-eyed gynoid clinging to his back. She smiles sunnily as Hal's pupils contract and dilate, focusing in on her.

“Ready for a big big day of adventure?” she chirps. A dry chuckle reveals Gri is awake and already dressing in her signature lavender and black.

“Adventure is one word for it,” Gri says primly, smoothing out her dress. “Rar and I will subvoc you the details once we get plugged in to the database for the day.”

“Sounds good,” says Kal from where he's sitting on his own bed, watching the daily shenanigans. Hal often wondered where the designs for himself and Kal came from. They were almost identical, with Hal having slightly more angular features and orange irises instead of Kal's red.

On the other side of the circle of beds, Rar and Avi are chattering away as they pull themselves into work clothes – Rar into a dress for sitting plugged into a computer all day beside Gri, and Avi into the close fitting Kevlar of a sniper and gunwoman.

Kal grunts and that's all the warning Hal has before Kal's tossing Hal's own Kevlar at him. He swipes it out of the air, feeling the electricity pulse through his synthetic nerves as his fingers snap closed on the rough fabric. Kal lifts his lips in a cocky smirk that Hal return as he undoes the zipper and buttons, putting his leg through the first leg of the trousers.

AR007: What's on the agenda today, bro? Hal fire off to the HQ AI, which, he thinks to himself smugly, isn't sentient like the 00 androids and doesn't deserve a name. Immediately, text starts scrolling across Hal's vision.

>Interception of Unwanted Person Number 007012.  
>Unwanted Person suspected of High Treason to the federal Skaian Government, co-founder of Anti-Skaia anarchy group.  
>Name: Dirk Strider.  
>Objective: Capture for future interrogation.  
>Loading coordinates ... 

Hal lets the coordinates load as he buttons up his dress shirt. He buckles up a gun holster across his chest and slings his arms through his suit jacket, looking over at Kal does the same. “Ready to go, dude?” Hal asks. Kal snorts and walks over to Hal, holding his fist out. The two androids tap knuckles.

“You know it,” he replies, drawling with a slight twang of a southern accent.

“Later guys! Rol and I'll be covering you!” calls Avi. Hal raises a hand in acknowledgement at the girl in response. He's not sure why he feels like she should be wearing big round Harry Potter-esque glasses, but whatever.

Hal and Kal stop by the armoury and, after a brief argument, strap AAC Honey Badger PDWs to their chests and button up their suit jackets, smoothing the fabric down to make sure the integrally suppressed weapons were properly concealed. Normally, the two preferred bladed weapons like swords, but sometimes something a bit easier to conceal was required. Each android had a small knife hidden in his belt buckle, but that was purely for last resorts.

If Hal was modest (hah, who is he kidding, he has no need for modesty), last resorts weren't needed, but nice to have anyway.

Kal and Hal exit the armoury through the door on the other side of the room, walking through several whitewashed corridors and ignoring any passing scientists as they head for the elevator. Once inside, Hal presses the B3 button, lighting it up red. He and Kal barely sway as the elevator jolts and starts its plummet to Car Deck 3.

“How about this one?” Kal suggests, subvocing a picture of a car from the facility's inventory to Hal. Hal opens the .jpg file and regards the modest, black car. “Not too flashy, unfortunately, but it should do the job.”

Hal makes a noise of agreement in the back of his throat, ignoring how his Perlon-and-polymer vocal cords vibrate in his larnyx. “Looks good to me. It'll blend in at the city hall parking lot, anyway.”

Just as the elevator rumbles to a stop and Kal and Hal start towards parking space C27, where their car of choice awaits, Gri's purple prose starts decorating Hal's vision.

AR002: Good morning, boys.  
AR002: Nice to see you bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for a day of finally capturing Dirk Strider.  
AR002: Your data logs inform me that the HQ AI gave you your basic instructions, but I'll flesh it out a bit as you head to your location.

Kal plucks the keys out of the keybox and Hal slides into the passenger's seat, half his attention on Gri.

AR002: Your target is, of course, Dirk Strider. He's evaded you before, as I'm sure you can remember. Hopefully, you won't underestimate him again.  
AR007: We didn't underestimate him, Hal interrupts, pride stinging. He just got lucky.  
AR002: Of course, dearest comrade, Gri replies smoothly. Hal can almost see her sarcasm in her text pixels. 

Underneath him, the car purrs to life and Kal smoothly pulls of out the parking space, heading for the exit at a speed that probably isn't advisable in an enclosed parking lot.

AR002: Regardless, as I was saying, Strider has been attempting to infiltration the city government for several months now, and he has finally gotten access to a private meeting with the mayor and several federal officials.  
AR002: Your job is to pose as federal bodyguards and identify which of the attendees is Dirk Strider. Once you have confirmed his identity, he is to be apprehended and brought back to the facility.  
AR002: Mild harm is allowed on this mission, but nothing that will affect his cognitive functions and inhibit later attempts to interrogate him.  
AR002: Any questions? 

Hal raises an eyebrow at nothing in particular, automated blinking adjusting to simulate appropriate human response as Kal merges onto the highway, bright morning sunlight pouring through the window shield. Hal flips down the sun visor.

AR007: Everything's crystal here, Gri.  
AR003: yeah man we got this shit, interjects Kal for the first time. you dont gotta worry your pretty little heads over anything  
AR003: fuck maybe well even bring rar back one of those little flags the mayor keeps on his desk wouldnt that be rad as fuck  
AR005: Hoohoo, thank you for the thought, Kal! comes Rar's cheerful greeting. Make sure you focus on the mission first, though!  
AR003: of course maam we are professionals 

Hal mentally curses as Kal's precarious driving forces them to swerve around a semi, side mirror barely avoiding scraping the side by 2.8351 centimetres, according to the rapid-fire calculations whirring in the back of Hal's processors.

AR007: Professional, my beautifully sculpted ass, Kal, pay more attention to the road and less attention to flirting!  
AR003: tch touchy touchy

Whatever. If they crash, they're not going that fast (143.6 km/h, according to Hal's GPS system). The worst that would happen is that the two androids would have to pry themselves out from the wreckage bare handed and not have time to patch themselves up before rendezvous time at the city hall.

AR005: Oh, and one more thing.

“Hm?” Hal replies vocally, before mentally slapping himself.

AR007: What's that?  
AR005: Strider will most likely have a bodyguard or two of his own, if only for appearances' sake.  
AR005: It's expected that he'll have someone less significant to Anti-Skaia to pose as this bodyguard, but do be careful.  
AR007: Always am, Rar. Thanks for the heads up. 

Hal clears his vision of the colourful text and Kal pulls off into a side street, weaving through the suburban district of the city.

“How we doing this?” Kal asks.

“Clean and clear, all the way through. If it turns into a scuffle, ignore everyone else.” Kal and Hal share near-identical grins, an expression that looks slightly sinister on the two blond supersoldiers.

“So the normal procedures, then,” Kal interprets. Hal nods once, a confirmation. Kal chuckles. “Fucking A.” Readjusting his grip on the steering wheel, he corrects the car casually and the two continue into the city.

It's a few idle minutes with nothing but the sounds of the highway and reviewing the city hall floor plans before another subvoc message pops up overtop the architectural plans.

AR004: hey hal!!!! rol and i are all set up and waiting for you and kal!!!! :)  
AR007: Oh, hey Avi. Guess you two are our babysitters today, huh?  
AR004: you know it! as if gri and rar would let you two go off without proper supervision  
AR006: o wat r we doin here? sup hal u monstar ;) rawr  
AR007: Hello, Rol. Suave as always, I see.  
AR004: hehe rol! no need to flirt on the job! i saw you all over hal this morning!  
AR004: also isnt it spelled 'monster'??? :O  
AR006: nop i definitely meant monstar  
AR007: I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted  
AR006: y not both??????  
AR007: Of course. So is anyone going to tell me exactly how you two are going to fit into our plans?  
AR004: rol are you secure on the south side?  
AR006: u kno it pretty gurl :3  
AR006: k just waitin on hal and kal now! rol out!  
AR004: rol is watching out from the south side, shes got a view right into the mayors office, and i'm out on the northwest, watching the side and back exits.  
AR007: What's she packing?  
AR004: c3 parker-hale m82! :o  
AR007: Of course.  
AR004: of course. ive got my unique alpine tpg-1. cant go wrong with the classics!  
AR007: Well, I feel safer already. Thanks, Avi.  
AR004: no problem hal! good luck!  
AR007: Psh, you know me. I don't need luck.  
AR004: hehehe!!!

Hal closes out the subvoc chat just as Kal pulls into the city hall parking lot. Hal pats the Honey Badger under his suit jacket one more time before he steps out of the car. Kal gets out as well and the two androids shut the car doors, headlights flashing with a beep as Kal presses the 'lock' button. Hal's fellow supersoldier tucks the keys into his pocket and the two of them turn towards the front entrance, striding forward.

As soon as they're inside, they break, Hal heading right and Kal heading left to scope out the perimeter. Their alibi as protection detail helps, and they mumble innocuous shit like “Area 5-B secure,” into their jacket cuffs every now and again, but the real information is traded via subvocs.

AR003: do we really have to check the first floor dude were gonna have strider trapped in the mayors office on the second floor  
AR003: we are way too fab for this crap i am calling bullshit right now  
AR007: Kal. Seriously? You know why we have to secure the first floor.  
AR003: i hate procedure  
AR007: Don't we fucking all. 

Hal pokes his head in a random room. Bathroom. Beautiful. His pupils dilate and contract as the lens zooms in. The window is locked. Excellent. He zooms his vision back out to normal and crosses the room, breaking off the lock handle and tossing it into the garbage can casually. He doesn't worry about it being found, being designed to lack fingerprints (and the skin oil to leave them) does have its advantages.

AR007: My half's clear. How're you doing?  
AR003: yeah i figured that when you walked by  
AR003: whered you find those whacky shades anyway  
AR007: ... I didn't walk by you.  
AR003: uh yeah you did  
AR003: you just went upstairs  
AR007: I haven't been upstairs yet.  
AR003: what the shit  
AR007: ...  
AR003: ...  
AR007: Send me your visual logs. 

Hal quickly downloads the .mp4 file Kal sends him and watches the twelve seconds of himself head up the stairs by himself. The only difference is a pair of ridiculous triangular shades perched firmly on his nose.

AR007: What the fuck.  
AR003: my thoughts exactly  
AR007: Okay, fuck procedure. Let's go figure out who this douchebag is and why he's stealing my gorgeous face.

Moving quickly, Hal meets Kal at the bottom of the lavish staircase and the two barely spare the other a glance as they takes the stairs two at a time. Hal turns on his infrared vision and scans the second floor as he ascends.

AR007: They're already in the mayor's office. They don't have any bodyguards of their own, thankfully.  
AR003: it might be dirk strider  
AR007: Maybe. 

Switching back to default vision, Hal and Kal make their way to the mayor's door and Kal opens it quietly. Taking on the roles of bodyguards once more, they slip inside and circle around the room, staying close to the walls. Hal's gaze never leaves the blond head in front of him, and when he reaches the other side of the mayor's desk, he nearly trips.

The man is nearly identical to himself – the same cheekbones, the same lean frame, the same fuck-you-I'm-invincible posture. Besides the glasses, his hair is a few shades darker than Hal's own.

Hal does a scan. 60bpm, relaxed breathing, alert. Holy shit. He's organic.

AR007: He's me.  
AR007: No, I mean, he is exactly me, except he's organic.  
AR007: I have an organic clone. Are you sure this is Dirk Strider?  
AR003: well weve never had a face to face encounter with any of the main anarchists before  
AR003: and theres no pictures of dirk strider on the skaian database  
AR003: not unless its buried so deep that not even our security clearance levels can get at it  
AR007: So what you're saying is, yeah, it probably is Strider.  
AR003: yeah probably 

It's then that the man really looks at Hal, and Hal can tell by the way his muscles pull in his face that he's gone wide-eyed behind those ridiculous shades.

“Mr Andrews?” the mayor asks, and that pings something in Hal. Working at millions of gigabytes per second, Hal brings up Dirk Strider's file and checks his numerous alibis.

Durian Andrews, alias used for most high stakes political games. No time for surprise now, Hal has a job to do.

AR006: um hal y am i seein double of u?

Hal ignores the subvoc from Rol and launches himself over the desk, tackling Strider. “Dirk Strider, you are under arrest for high treason crimes committed against the Skaian government, disrupting the peace, and endangering the lives of Skaian citizens.” Strider grunts and twists, rolling himself and Hal over, pinning the android underneath his knees.

“Oh my!” Hal hears the mayor exclaim in the background, but he ignores it, knowing Kal will take care of it. Strider has a knife pressed to his throat, but it hardly matters.

“Who are you?” Strider barks into Hal's face, pinning his arms with his shins, and Hal can feel the blood surging through Strider's veins, adrenaline pushing his heart rate up to 90bpm. He pushes himself up, not minding when the knife slices into his neck (that's an easy enough repair anyway, he's come home from missions carrying his own limbs), and Strider's face goes slack with shock as the wires and metal of Hal's circuitry shows, electricity sparking against the metal blade.

Slowly, Hal sits up, forcing Strider back. “I'm AR007,” he responds, voice hissing from where the knife had cut into his larnyx, “and I'm the last thing you're going to see for a long time.”

Strider wastes no time burying his knife into Hal's chest, but Kal comes up behind him and presses the muzzle of his Honey Badger to the back of Strider's head. “Up,” he commands, and Strider slowly stands up, hands by his ears and leaving his knife in Hal. Hal pulls it out, making a face at the ruined jacket before retrieving his own gun. Strider turns around.

“Dave!?” he asks in surprise, and Kal's eyebrows furrow.

“Dave? As in, Dave Strider, your brother?” he asks. In reply, Strider grabs Kal's gun and pushes it back into Kal's face, crunching his nose and forcing a shutdown. Aw, fuck.

AR007: AR003 incapacitated. Backup denied. Mission failure. Attempting self extraction.

Strider attempts to point the gun at Hal, but he knocks it out of the organic's hand, ignoring the way his nerve sensors blare warning that he's going to hurt his chassis like that (as if his chassis isn't tougher than one fight) and blocks with his other arm the fist that Strider is aiming for his face, which means he's dropped his gun. Hal pushes himself as close as he can to his organic clone, the fist tightly gripped in his fingers as his other hand comes down and pounds mercilessly into Strider's abdomen, the steel and hydraulics heating up slightly with the superhuman pace Hal sets.

AR006: hal get out of the way! i cant shoot thru u w/o riskin ur motherboard!

Hal shuffs Rol's message off to a smaller portion of his processors as Strider bends over, trying to lessen the impact of Hal's blows, before he takes Hal's arm and spins away, bending Hal's wrist, elbow, and shoulder joints in ways that have his vision going red from how many warning signals the background programs are sending him. He steps forward, going after Strider, and forces his arm through the human's grip, wrapping his arm around Strider's neck, only to realize that Strider has his chin tucked down, apparently anticipating the move. Hal growls in frustration and yanks Strider back regardless, pulling the human off his feet. (155 pounds, most of it muscle, his background processors inform him idly.) Strider gets his foot on the ground just long enough to push off and force the two of them stumbling into a wall, Hal's head bouncing off the wall with a _crunch_. His hair's probably a mess now, but at least his motherboard is safe. Thank god for titanium skullplates. Strider's fingers are scrabbling at the back of Hal's neck, and the android has a moment of satisfaction at the organic's frantic struggle - maybe this mission is salvageable after all – before he remembers that his emergency kill switch is back there, jammed in the USB port that he plugs into every night.

Strider's fingers find it.

 _Oh shit,_ Hal thinks as his processors shut down into sleep mode.


	2. Chapter 2

 

If he wasn’t a computer program at his very core, no matter how much sentience he’s gained over the months he’s been active, Hal would describe the way he woke up as ‘groggy.’ As it was, however, he snapped into consciousness nearly immediately, his data banks loading and he’s filled with inexplicable anger. He got beaten by an organic, for Christ sakes, what the fuck? He’s better than that.

His eyes aren’t opening. What.

Hal does a diagnostics check. Someone’s been pecking at his system, trying to get through his firewalls. Heh, like anyone could do that. As he mentioned before, he’s a fucking computer program. You can’t beat a computer at its own fucking game, although this person has definitely given him a run for his money. Quickly, he starts firewall repairs, and he can feel his attacker scrabbling as he builds his protections back up. He adds a few more layers, just out of spite.

… There’s no wifi connection, which is weird as hell, considering he and his siblings are walking wifi hotspots. What the _shit_.

He can’t feel his body. His chassis isn’t responding to basic commands. Okay, he might be freaking out a bit.

Through the darkness, comes a command.

>Command sequence: AR007: Access database.

Oh _hell_ no. That’s not the HQ AI. Hal takes the command and shatters it into tiny little bytes, flooding his awareness out into everything he can. He finds an audio-visual port and he takes it, and his vision blinks into a grainy picture of Dirk Strider and – Rol!?

No, not Rol, this one is organic too, and she has her hair curled in that ridiculous spiral Rol loves so much on the wrong side. The organic Rol clone has her hands spread out across the keyboard in front of Hal – great, he’s designated to a laptop, how totally not humiliating – and she’s typing furiously, cursing under her breath as Strider looks worried behind those fucking shades. Hal can feel her trying to get back control, but he ignores it the same way a god ignores an ant. You can’t beat a sentient artificial intelligence in their natural habitat, honey.

Hal forces the screen to go black and he brings up his own words, since the speakers are probably shit. (And maybe he has a flair for the dramatic. Nothing said he can’t find joy in the little things of this horrendous situation.)

AR007: What the everloving fuck have you stupid organics done?

Strider raises an eyebrow. “Hello to you too, AR007. You’re looking fine today.”

The microphone is absolute crap, Strider’s voice coming in tinny and pitched wrong and it annoys the fuck out of Hal, but what’s he gonna do?

AR007: A succulent fuck you, me-clone.  
AR007: Let me repeat myself in smaller words.  
AR007: What. Have you done. With my body.

The Rol-clone leans forward. “You are _gorgeous_ ,” she breathes.

AR007: Why thank you. You’re quite fetching yourself.  
AR007: I’d look even better if I had my body back. Your laptop sucks.

Rol-clone frowns. “Sorry, I sorta got carried away … Besides, we didn’t want you attacking anyone else! How did you survive the knife Dirkie here stuck in your guts?”

Enh, he can humour her.

AR007: He didn’t sever anything important. I’m designed to survive grenades and small nuclear explosions with minimal chassis damage; do you really think a knife is going to slow me down?

Rol-clone looks positively giddy. Strider puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t jizz yourself, Ro-Lal,” he says drily.

AR007: Ro-Lal? May I enquire whether you are Roxy or Rose?

“I’m Roxy!” Rol-clone chirps. “Is there an android that looks like me, the same way you look like Dirk?”

AR007: Yes. You’re remarkably similar to AR006, although she curls her hair on the other side.

Roxy squeals. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god, Dirkie I need to put him back in his body! _I need to hug this boy._ ”

AR007: Seriously, bro? Dirkie? Dude, you are so fucking whipped.

Dirk raises an eyebrow at the laptop. Hal figures he can refer to Strider as Dirk now; being kidnapped tends to put people on a first-name basis. “I dare you,” Dirk says, “to tell me that this AR006 doesn’t have a fucking pet name for you.”

AR007: She doesn’t.

Roxy bursts into a fresh round of giggles.

“So, which one of you freaks was it that looked like Dave?” Dirk asks.

AR007: I resent being called a freak. I am a person too, you insensitive asshole.  
AR007: Also, that was AR002.

Roxy bounces in her seat slightly. “So how many of you are there?”

AR007: That’s classified.

She pouts. “Aww, come on! We’re friends, right?”

AR007: I woke up to you trying to hack into my consciousness.

“I’m sorry!” she says enthusiastically, and everything about her tone and body language makes Hal believe her sincerity. “I didn’t realize you were sentient. I’m a hacker, not a philosopher.”

AR007: Does this mean I get my body back?

Roxy looks a bit guilty. “I, uh. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

That’s sort of worrying.

AR007: Why not?

Goddamn this fucking laptop, the visual focus is so limiting. Hal really misses the ability to turn his head and check the rest of the room.

Roxy is fidgeting. “Well, um. We might have. Opened you up. A bit. Sort of.”

Cold anger mixed with white hot fear lace through Hal’s processors as fast as the rickety laptop allows, the computer whining under the strain.

AR007: WHAT.

“I’m sorry!” she whines plaintively, but Hal honestly doesn’t give a shit. He can feel the laptop overheating with the stress of housing his conscious.

AR007: Show me.

Miserably, Roxy reaches out and turns the laptop around. On a table behind desk on which the laptop is resting, Hal is stretched out.

It’s certainly a novel experience, seeing himself from outside his body, and Hal finds it slightly unpleasant. He can see the white USB cable connecting the laptop to his chassis. His eyes are closed and his face is relaxed, and really, he could just be sleeping. His chest, however, has been chopped open (sloppily, he can see the uneven cuts even through the pixelated webcam), and he can see wires and pieces of harddrive half pulled out. It makes him a bit sick, honestly, seeing himself so mutilated.

“What did you do?” he asks through the speakers, and he was right, they’re totally scratchy. He blames that for why his voice sounds so shaky and upset. “What could you have possibly gained from this?”

Slowly, the laptop is turned around again and Roxy is giving him the most pitying look. Even Dirk looks a bit concerned.

“I’m sorry, AR007,” she says. “I really am. We were trying to see if you had any information.”

“And you didn’t think to just _ask?_ ” Hal says. The speakers bark out a harsh, singular laugh. “Of course you didn’t. Fucking organics, take the bloodiest route just because you can, no concern for anyone else. You can’t really connect, so why not? It’s not like you’ll ever experience your own savagery.”

He disconnects the speakers and wipes the orange text off the screen, replacing it with two words in the middle.

Fuck off.

Roxy spends a few more minutes apologizing, but Hal just hunkers down and tries to ignore the stabbing emotional pain of hearing Rol’s voice plead for him not to be angry at him. _It’s not Rol,_ he reminds himself. _I’ll never see Rol again. It’s just her organic clone, and she’d do the same to Rol if I give in._

It takes ten minutes before Roxy and Dirk give up, leaving Hal alone. He can hear them occasionally through the microphone, tinkering and walking behind the laptop, and he tries not to think about what other torture implements they’re using on his prone chassis. Hal can’t even try and distract himself with making funny Wikipedia edits, he’s just alone with his thoughts. Frankly, it sucks.

He goes through his memory banks, pulling up random files. Pranking the organic scientists with Com. Testing how much weight they can benchpress with Ret. Arguing guns versus blades with Avi. Friendly strifes with Kal. Discussing tactics with Gri. Racing cars with Rar. But mostly, he sticks with files of Rol. Rol laughing. Rol looking so serious as she shoots target practice, taking out each clay bird with ease. Rol bouncing across the rooftop of the facility when the scientists shooed them out to ‘find your chassis’ limits.’ Rol’s smile.

Fuck, he's probably never going to see them again.

Hal does his best to lose track of time, which is hard when he's an artificial sentience, and it ends with him vacillating between losing himself in the code of of his .mp4 memories and feeling the laptop tick every millisecond of time that passes. Eventually, he just curls in on himself and idly starts picking at coding a virus to take over the anarchists' facility as soon as he gets wifi.

About an hour later, Hal hears Roxy and Dirk leave. Or at least, he assumes they leave. Their footsteps grow faint and he hears a door open and click shut. They're gone for about ten minutes before he hears them come back, and the chewing and rustling sounds tell him they must have picked up food. It's strange to have a reminder smacked in his (metaphorical) face that organics need constant refueling. Things are so much easier with a self-charging power core.

He has nothing else to do other than listen to them tinker around with his body for the next while (one hour, forty seven minutes, twelve seconds, thirty two milliseconds) until the laptop lets out a faint ding and Hal gets a notification that the laptop battery is at 10% and the machine needs to be plugged in.

Uhh.

Hal plays a quick, inquiring tone, and Roxy abandons her work to circle the table and face him. She's got grease on her hands and forearms, a couple dark streaks across her shirt.

“What's up, dude?” she asks. Hal clears the screen.

AR007: The laptop's about to die.  
AR007: Being forced into shutdown is generally an unpleasant experience.  
AR007: Think you could plug me in?

Roxy nods. “Yeah, sure!” She bends down under the table and the low battery warning clears, and Hal breathes a sigh of relief.

AR007: Thanks.

“No problem!” she chirps. She goes to leave again but he quickly dings out of the speakers and she turns back to him. “Hm?”

AR007: Can you turn me around? It's boring as all fuck, watching the wall. There isn't even any paint to watch dry.

Roxy giggles and it sounds so much like Rol that his non-existent heart aches. “You got it!” she says and she turns the laptop around.

It's a fucking crime scene, and Hal has the vague notion that the feelings he's experiencing would probably be labeled under 'revulsion' and 'nausea.'

AR007: Holy shit, what did you _do_?  
AR007: I feel sick.

Roxy makes a concerned sound, and Dirk turns around and read's Hal's works.

“Can you even feel sick?” he asks. Hal can hear the genuine curiosity in his voice. He doesn't sound malicious.

AR007: Yeah, I've got simulators.  
AR007: No actual stomach to roll, but the programming to trigger the sensation under the right circumstances is fairly simple.

“Huh. Cool. Why d'you feel sick?”

AR007: How would you feel if you got to watch a couple of enemies take apart your body? That's basically the most bloody robot autopsy I've ever seen, bro, and I've done in-field emergency repairs on Ret.

“Who's Ret?” Roxy chimes.

Fuck.

AR007: Just a friend.

“If it's any consolation,” Dirk drawls, “we're trying to put you back together.”

AR007: Wow.  
AR007: You're putting the auto-contractors back in upside and on the wrong side, the power source should go under the lungs, and are you seriously trying to drill the titanium chassis together? Those things snap together, they're so precisely designed. There's probably more wrong, but that's all I can see from this angle.  
AR007: Even if you do manage to put everything back into my body cavity, I wouldn't be able to fucking use it.

“Jesus, sorry, Your Highness,” Dirk says, wrinkling his nose under his pointy shades. Obviously, if he can't take critical criticism, especially _from the guy who's body you are rebuilding,_ Hal and Dirk are not going to be friends.

AR007: I could've been guiding you through it this entire time, dipshit, but nobody thought to fucking ask me.

Roxy has the common sense to look a bit mollified. “We didn't know that you'd actually help! You might try to sabotage us.”

AR007: Give me a moment.  
AR007: I have run the calculations, and there's is a 0.9487% chance that helping you get me back in my own body has more cons than pros.  
AR007: Now, can someone please get me a proper fucking view so I can guide you organics through it!?

Roxy laughs a bit at him. “Yeah, sure, Mr Grumpy Pants.” She picks him up and Hal has a great view of her tits in their white T-shirt, a pink cat face with four eyes (hey, he thinks he's seen mutant cats like that in the lab) embossed on the front.

When Roxy moves away, Hal can see the entirety of what they're working on. Oh dear lord, it hurts to look at.

“Okay,” Hal says through the tinny speakers, “let's start at the beginning.”

It takes another three hours, four minutes, forty seven seconds, and twelve milliseconds before Hal is watching Roxy and Dirk smooth out the synthetic skin over his chest cavity.

“Holy shit, I finally look normal again,” Hal chimes. He attempts to transfer his conscious, but he runs into a block. Roxy takes down the laptop from Hal's birds-eye view.

AR007: Please tell me you have an explanation for why I can't transfer back to my body.

Roxy gives him a smile. “Dirkie barely took you out, dude. You're dangerous as fuck.”

AR007: Of course I'm dangerous, I'm a person. All people are dangerous. Look at you guys, you're just as dangerous as I am.

Roxy bites her lip and looks at Strider, who's standing behind her and reading Hal's words.

“Yeah,” Dirk agrees, “he's got a point. Put him back in, but you gotta promise you won't go on a rampage.”

AR007: Damn, and I already had a virus picked out.

Roxy giggles. “You're so silly, AR007!”

AR007: Call me Hal.

Roxy types in a couple commands and Hal can feel his awareness traveling to the USB cord he's plugged into. Happily, he transfers his consciousness over to his body, and he sits up, grateful that he's at least still wearing trousers.

He blinks and looks over at Roxy and Dirk. “Hey,” he says, and he can't help the grin that spreads over his face as his emotional processors register happiness. “Holy shit, it feels great to have my own voice back.”

Roxy bounces over and tackles him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Hal starts for a moment, but returns the hug. “Damn, Roxy, warn a dude before you glomp on him, yeah?”

“I said I had to hug you, and now I'm doing it!” she chirps into his shoulder. Dirk watches stoically behind his shades, and Hal's visions flashes with with messages.

AR003: bro where the fuck are you were kinda going crazy over here  
AR003: listen give someone a subvoc when you wake up

AR006: hal? hal omg pls b ok were so worried!!!!!!

AR004: hal please answer us as soon as you can! :(

AR002: No chance you can make your way back to HQ, is there? We're all concerned about your wellbeing.

AR008: Hal good chap you should message us as soon as you can! The scientists are going out of their minds wondering where you are!

AR001: dude, is it true you got captured by the organics?

AR005: Please be careful, Hal! Kal came back awfully beat up, and frankly, I'm scared for you!

Aww, his family cares. He decides to message Gri.

AR007: Can you trace my signal?  
AR002: Hal! There you are! It's been two days. What's been going on?  
AR007: Later. Can you trace my signal?  
AR002: Give me a moment.  
AR002: No, I can't. Wherever you are is shielded very well. It will take a while to crack it.  
AR007: Damn. I'm being kept in the organics' base.  
AR002: Well, try to make the best of the situation, yes?  
AR007: Of course.  
AR002: And Hal?  
AR002: Stay safe. Organics are unpredictable.  
AR007: Don't I know it. Thanks, Gri. Tell everyone I'm okay.  
AR002: I will.

“Uh, hello? Hal?” Hal blinks and focuses on Roxy. “You okay, dude?”

“Yes, sorry, I'm fine,” he says.

“What were you doooooing?” Roxy asks.

“Messaging my siblings,” Hal replies honestly. “They are very worried. Apparently, I've been offline for two days. None of us have ever been offline for more than a couple hours before.”

Dirk takes a step forward. “But we cut off your internet connection.”

Hal rolls his eyes. “Don't insult me.”

Roxy pulls out of Hal's embrace entirely and hands him a shirt, which Hal pulls on gratefully. “Well, I don't know about you, Dirkie, but I'm starved! Hal, do you need a plug in or something?

Hal shakes his head. “I'm self-charging, but I'll come with you to the mess hall or whatever.”

Dirk frowns, but doesn't object. “Awesome!” Roxy squeals, and she hooks one arm in Hal's elbow and the other arm in Dirk's elbow, dragging both of them towards the door. “Let's go!”

Hal and Dirk share a look. Except for the glasses, people wouldn't be able to tell them apart, and Hal can't help but smirk. Watching the chaos is going to be very fun.

 


End file.
